


Traps & Sigils

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demons, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 02:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg is snared in a devil's trap and to her irritation, Castiel shows up, not realizing that she's bait for an ambush. But Crowley's demons don't count on how resourceful Meg can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traps & Sigils

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt. mostly Future Fic

           "Oh you dumbass," Meg groaned the minute he set foot inside the warehouse.

Stuck inside a devil's trap painted on the ceiling, she could only move so far as the boundary lines but Castiel had the impression she would have flown across the room at him if she could have. Not out of gratitude or pleasure in seeing him. She looked ready to rip his throat out.

            He'd not seen her this annoyed before. Not really angry, just defeated and frustrated. As if he’d done something so stupid she couldn’t believe it.

            "I thought that you were here," he said, looking around the main floor for a way to get her out. The paint was dry on the concrete ceiling and it looked like he'd have to break the concrete to get her out. "I'm going to get you out. You could show some appreciation considering this would be our debt repaid."

            "Was it me that called you?" Meg demanded, looking up at the ceiling. Castiel turned towards her.

            "What do you mean?"

            "Did you get here on a whim?"

            "No. I felt you here…" With a growl, Meg waved her hand.

            "Seem a little convenient that I'd get trapped and then you'd show up?"

            Castiel flinched, understanding her meaning. The iron grate she was standing on made a loud banging noise when she tapped her foot impatiently on it. He turned to look around again.

            "Who else is here?"

            Meg's smile was cold and vicious. "Some old friends that I am not happy about seeing again. I was doing fine 'til you showed up."

            The doors on all sides slammed open with furious bursts of power and they both watched as demons of every size and meatsuit came in. Travelling in packs, they were all armed and all dangerous. Castiel hadn't seen so many castes all at once and knew that this trap had been thought out. One demon, ancient and powerful, clearly in charge by the way he carried himself, grinned at Castiel and waved at the others to stagger themselves in a loose circle around the angel.

            "Crowley said if we got hold of the bitch, you'd come running," he said. "Never thought he'd be right."

            His head turned a little on the side and he looked at Meg. "Asenath, you traitorous little bitch. You finally came in useful for your family, even if we had to trap you first."

            She bristled a little. "Cimeies. Should have recognized your stench all over this. Mind if I tear out your spine this time around?"

            "Sticks and stones, whore." He circled Castiel, looking him up and down. "Was surprised to see you both so interested in one another. That's breaking all matters of laws of demon and angel. Disgusting."

            "You honestly think this will work out for you?" Castiel asked lowly, his blade singing as it dropped to his hand. "Let her go."

            "We didn't really do this for the whore though she’s an added bonus. We wanted you. Crowley has a big price on your head, you know. The demon’s price is just as high. Double the reward." Cimeies pointed a wicked looking knife at Castiel. "Looks like it worked out already."

            Castiel met Meg's eyes and she looked away after a moment, as if he was distracting her. She began pacing the edges of the trap and came as close to Cimeies as she could.

            "Come on, Cimeies. You used to be an old badass, able to fight angels all by your lonesome. Now you're doing the thirty on one tactic? Now who's pathetic?" Meg snapped loudly. The younger demons, easily influenced and hot for a fight, paused in their slow advance on Castiel. Meg's words struck a chord in them and she knew it.

            Cimeies turned on his heel and slammed his fist against her cheek, sending her to the ground in a crumpled heap. "You never did learn when to shut up, child. It was always your greatest flaw."

            Staring up at him from where she lay, Meg spat out a mouthful of blood. "And you always were just the petty slave, Cimeies. "

            Her eyes suddenly darted behind him and the big demon turned to find Castiel standing just behind him, the smaller angel staring up at him. Castiel's eyes narrowed a little before he lashed out with his angel sword. Cimeies howled furiously as his stomach was slit open, the demon doubling over to try to close the wound with his hands. Castiel slapped his hand down onto his forehead and sent a course of power through him, having to use more than he was used to so he could exorcise the old demon.

            When the smoking corpse fell to the floor, Castiel straightened up and turned to look at the demons still surrounding him. They all moved in a slow, uniformed circle, drawing tighter and tighter. They were nervous from what he'd done but they had their orders and Castiel knew they wouldn't scare easily. Their numbers alone were giving them confidence that they could overwhelm an angel.

            "Well? Come on." Castiel gripped the hilt of his blade tighter. "I don't have all the time in the world for this."

            As one force, the demons leapt for him.

            Meg watched from the ground and the desperate battle scene was fascinating in a morbid way. Castiel grabbed one demon and snapped its neck, before burying his blade in the gut of another. It was another older demon, able to resist the pain of the blow, and it nearly howled in fury before it slapped the blade from his hand. The sword went skittering across the floor and Meg reached out to snag it before it disappeared down the grating.

            A familiar sharp sensation went up her arm as she grasped the hilt, feeling that sting of grace and the heat of Castiel's grip still warming the sword. Clutching it close, she turned it over in her hand thoughtfully. It wouldn't do her much good and if she threw it, the knife would likely hit Castiel.

            And despite how angry she was at his interference, at his damn chivalry in trying to save her, she wasn't ready to kill him.

            Not when he’d been willing to save her. Stupid, utterly noble angel.

            Swarmed by the smaller imp-like creatures and larger, more muscled demons, Castiel tried to whirl around them only to be tackled down at the legs. His head snapped backwards as he was struck across the face and a gash sliced across his cheek when he nearly fell into the knife of another demon. Castiel was strong and more than capable normally, but he'd been caught off guard and unprepared.

            The demons were, for once, lucky.

             Meg picked herself up; blood oozing from cut her teeth had sliced open in her mouth, and stared at the desperate pile of writhing creatures. She could barely see Castiel through the density of bodies surrounding him. Unconsciously, her fingers grasped the knife hilt tightly.

            Guilt, unexpected and raw, nibbled at her mind and she shook her head. "Damn it, you are such a poetic idiot," she whispered, not sure who she talked to: herself or the angel being dragged to the iron grate floor.

            She only had one way to get rid of the guilt and she muttered to herself as she slipped her leather coat off. "Stupid angels. Always so fucking noble. Life was simpler before when we just fought each other. But no. Had to go and change the rules."

            That no one was paying attention to her was a mixture of insulting and relieving.

            Slowly, Meg started to dig the knife into the flesh of her forearm, pressing so deeply that she nicked bone and nerve endings. Blood wept from the pierced pale skin, dripping hot and nearly black to the floor, and she dragged the knife in a delicate though shaky pattern. Her eyes went to black as she tried to block against the pain and she clutched her arm close to her body, focussed on getting it right. The circle was jagged and the markings were tiny but they were there and slowly becoming more and more visible the more deeply she cut.

            The loud screech of a demon being burned didn't disturb her focus and she blinked around the strain in her eyes to look at the mark. Still she carved deeper and deeper, until her arm went numb and she started to see bone through the mess of muscle and blood.

            Castiel shouted something to her, and she closed her eyes instinctively against the flash of light that exploded from his hand. But she wasn't the only one to do so and one of the older demons swept his leg out, toppling the angel to the ground. Meg lifted her head with the knife buried in the last mark at the centre of the circle on her arm, and stared at the pile of bodies. Castiel was pinned to his stomach, sat on by three or four demons, it was hard to tell who was on what really, and for every move he made more demons were there to grab him to hold him down. 

            Meg locked eyes with him across the grate and she held up her arm for him to see. The sigil was carved in a shaky pattern but it was clear as the blood dripped down in fat gobs down her arm what it was.

            "You'd better appreciate this," she muttered. Castiel's mouth opened and she tilted her head on the side, slapping her other hand down onto the sigil. It sent hot burning sparks of pain and light through her entire body and she hoped that she wouldn't burn with it.

            It was likely because she’d been getting used to the angelic Grace that she didn’t go to ash.

            Brilliant whitewashed power exploded through the air like a blast of starlight and she shielded her eyes again. She heard his shout of shock as the sigil banished him. The demons shrieked in fury and pain as Castiel disappeared into thin air, and as one group they turned towards her.

            "Whore!" a female screamed and Meg put her numb arm down.

            "Come on, douche bags, you think that's the first time I’ve heard that? It's getting old." She tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. It would take a good slam to crack the concrete. But really what she needed… yes. That was much simpler. "Plus, you all think I'm helpless."

            One of the smaller demons charged her and she flipped him over, slamming the blade into his neck before he could do more than flail on the ground. His blood squirted up and she caught some in her mouth, swallowing down the tainted fluid with a grimace against her will. But it strengthened her to have his added power and blood in her body. Meg stood up from her crouch and began to chant in low, fluid tones, a furious sound that cracked windows and made the room itself shake. The demons whirled around, startled. They'd been told, guaranteed, that when she was caged she'd be vulnerable.

            “ _Spiritus in mundus un glorum suarum umitite palatum iram domine...”_

            One of the  other demons started forward and she grabbed hold of the female the minute she entered the trap. Without flinching from her chant, she promptly snapped the demon’s neck.

            “ _Tenebris mea libera me. Exuro tenebris per caelum scindam cælos seorsum. Scindete seorsum. Tenebris mea libera me.”_

            She repeated it over and over again, until the glow in the room this time dimmed to nothing more than shadows and the lights flickered off. The demons looked at each other just before the concrete itself split into massive chunks, falling down around them when the ceiling caved in. Meg continued to chant, continued to force her will with a strength she hadn't used in a long time, and her fingers twisted in a circle. The trap above her splintered into pieces, ruined concrete slamming to the ground in a circle around her.

            Meg's eyes glinted as she stepped out of the trap and towards the remaining demons not flattened by the ceiling slabs. The knife hung from her fingers and she tapped it against her thigh.

            "Come on, boys. I don't have all day."

* * *

 

            Splattered in blood and concrete dust, Meg limped into the motel room she'd managed to get with minimal fuss. The entire place was run down and decrepit; the chances of being asked questions were slim to none. They probably saw worse here anyway and she was sure she had looked worse before.

            Her arm burned like a bitch though.

            Groaning, she stripped off her leather jacket and checked her body for any damage. Most of it was healed but the sigil was still raised and open tissue, hot and red to touch. Lifting her arm up away from her body, she trudged into the bathroom and flicked on the light, eyes still on the sigil. Gingerly, she touched it and felt a slow throb in her arm, like a second pulse pounding blood through her arm. Her demonic power was struggling to fix what she’d done but failing.

            She lifted her head and jumped when she saw Castiel's reflection just behind her. He waited only a heartbeat of time before he grabbed hold of her and twisted her around, keeping her pinned to the cracked sink.

            "Whoa, grabby much?" she demanded, wincing in pain when he forced her to show him her arm. Castiel said nothing, just held her marked arm up and stared at the mark.

            "You carved a banishing sigil." He traced the edges and Meg felt a burn of power. "Did you want to keep it?"

            "You're remarkably calm about this."

            Castiel stared at her. "I don't remember teaching you how to do this."

            Meg grinned. "You didn't. I'm self-taught, remember?"

            His thumb brushed her pulse point on the wrist. "How did you get out?"

            "You doubt me so much, Clarence. My feelings are hurt."

            "No they're not.” He turned her arm around and touched the center of the mark. “You broke the trap?"

            Meg shrugged. "I'm good at that sometimes."

            The fingers tracing the mark started to glimmer and she winced as the skin healed itself over. For some reason, the new skin tissue felt cleaner than the rest of her. Castiel bent his head lower and she felt his breath brush her cheek though his attention was on the mark.

            "That's not why I gave you the sword."

            "What was I supposed to do? Though I guess we could have stabbed each other, epic death like Romeo and Juliet if you wanted."

            "They were written as lovers," he muttered. Meg laughed darkly.

            "Oh, feathers, if this is a come on…"

            "And if it is?" he challenged and she leaned back against the sink, startled. Part of her wanted to laugh and another part, a little deeper, recoiled at the controlled strain in his voice.

            "Why did you come there?" She stared closely at him. "You knew it was a trap in the first place, didn't you?"

            "I was aware of the possibility." He reached with his other hand and touched the swollen mark on her lip from Cimeies' blow. It healed under his fingers. "You could have let me die."

            "Angel on my shoulder is far more useful alive," she pointed out, wrapping her free hand around the lip of the sink for balance.  "What's your excuse for coming to the rescue like a Knight in trenchcoat armour?"

            "Demon in my shadow is far more useful alive," he parroted as if it was obvious. His lips grazed her temple, fingers tracing the marks on her arm where the sigil had been carved. The welts there tingled a little and she felt his mouth curl into a smile.  She looked down at the marks and saw that only pale skin remained. Yet it felt as if the sigil was still there, carved into her eternally, and she bit into her lower lip.

            "Thanks, feathers. But don’t let my gratitude go to your head. I had it perfectly under control."  The fingers touching her cheek stilled and she looked up to see him still staring at her. Meg blinked and tugged on her arm a little, but he wouldn't let her go. "You have something else in mind or are you just being a tease again?"

            "Where's the sword?" he asked, voice so low she had to strain to hear him.

            She shook her leg a little and he glanced down before reaching down with one hand to skim over her calf. Tucked safely into her boot, the angel sword gleamed through the stain of demon blood and when he pulled it free the metal made a singing sound. He felt her shudder a little when he dragged it up her leg slowly.

            "It's had a lot of use lately," Meg said finally and the blade itself touched her thigh, resting there. "Going to use it right now?"

            Her grin was wicked. "Or are you going to use another sword?"

            "I know you think I don't understand your references, but I do." He leaned in and she exhaled sharply when the blade dug a little into her leg, but somehow the pressure was not as intense as the look he was giving her. "Which would you prefer?"

            She rolled her eyes as if thinking it over. "Well… it would be nice as a thank you for saving your ass if you didn't kill me."

            He dropped his head, lips brushing hers and she breathed up into him. He had her crowded against the sink and she reached between them to trace her fingers over his stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand lift and the blade he held slid back up into his sleeve, disappearing from sight. Then the hand was in her hair, tugging and pulling her head back so he could look into her eyes. The sensation of another battle coming made her grin just before he kissed her and forced that knowing curve from her lips.

            The intensity of the battle, the incredible adrenaline of fighting for their lives, surged back into them and turned the kiss frantic and hungry. His hands clawed into her hair, grabbing fistfuls and pulling, while she pushed back against him. She felt his tongue dart out to meet hers and with an eager moan she sucked on his lower lip before letting him in. Meg bounced up in his arms to sit on the sink and wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him closer, one arm going around his shoulders.  Her nails traced a sigil on his back, something that made him hiss as his lips parted hers so he could kiss her more deeply and she groaned in pure pleasure when he bit into her lower lip. Breaking the kiss, he let her go just enough that he could bite into her neck next, hard enough to bruise, and she felt his tongue slide against her skin.

            Without another thought, Castiel traced a devil's trap on her neck that burned just as hotly as fire and she laughed as his fingers nearly ripped her shirt apart to touch the pale skin beneath. Grabbing a fistful of his coat, she pulled him back up to her mouth to claim his lips. That beautiful adrenaline rush was back and they fell headlong into it, neither caring if it was a sin or a mistake they were making yet again.

            Moments like this, when danger and the forbidden loomed, felt too good to ever be surpassed.

           

           


End file.
